


Weather Stripping

by Moondog



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Biting, Bottom Steve, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Exhibitionism, Hair-pulling, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Semi-Public Sex, Super soldier reflexes used for sex purposes, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 08:59:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2645993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moondog/pseuds/Moondog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The problem, as Bucky sees it, isn't so much that Steve doesn't like his 21st century uniforms as much as his uniform from 1943 - they don't fit the same, Steve always says; the fabric feels wrong, he never has time to get used to them before SHIELD comes up with the next one - whatever. The problem isn't even that Steve is always in such a hurry to take the uniform off as soon as they get back from missions.</p><p>The problem, as Bucky sees it, is that Steve never seems to want to put on <i>other</i> clothes afterwards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weather Stripping

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally inspired by all of [Chris Evans' glorious naked scenes](http://moonlizards.tumblr.com/post/102301826306/) in What's Your Number. I hope you enjoy this accidental pornfest, with some Bucky-feelings on the side. 
> 
> Big fuzzy thanks to [Froggie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Froggie/pseuds/Froggie/), for encouraging me to write something I thought was hard, for unflagging enthusiasm, and for wrangling my freewheeling punctuation <3 Any unwrangled anything is my own fault.

The problem, as Bucky sees it, isn't so much that Steve doesn't like his 21st century uniforms as much as his uniform from 1943 - they don't fit the same, Steve always says; the fabric feels wrong, he never has time to get used to them before SHIELD comes up with the next one - whatever. The problem isn't even that Steve is always in such a hurry to take the uniform off as soon as they get back from missions.

The problem, as Bucky sees it, is that Steve never seems to want to put on _other_ clothes afterwards.

And it's not like Bucky has an issue with nudity. But Steve doesn't seem to realize that naked people should probably behave differently than clothed people. They don't tend to do things like cook dinner, or exercise, or work on home improvement projects. They certainly don't tend to answer their doors - Bucky doesn't let Steve sign for packages anymore, and he sure is grateful that they have a different UPS lady now. 

Bucky doesn't remember Steve being like this before the war - he supposes Steve wouldn't have been like this _during_ the war - though there are a hell of a lot of things Bucky doesn't remember, so he tries to give Steve the benefit of the doubt. 

Maybe Steve's always been a secret nudist. He certainly has been for the last year or so. This business of not wearing clothes around the house started well after Steve and Sam brought Bucky back to New York and installed him in Steve's new apartment after the implosion of Project Insight - sometime around when Bucky started seeing his counselors one day a week instead of two, and volunteered to do all of their grocery shopping. Bucky doesn't remember if Steve was always like this, but he sure as hell is like this now. 

Bucky doesn't mind, exactly. If Steve is taking stupid social risks instead of needlessly putting himself in danger on every mission, well, that's an improvement. The problem, as Bucky sees it, is that he's confronted with Naked Steve all the time. 

And the problem with that - the real problem in all of this - is that he enjoys it. Enjoys the cooking, the push-ups, the casual strolls around the apartment - in a way he remembers, with increasing vividness, that he enjoyed Steve before. Before the fall and the ice and Hydra and all the violence and death. And he doesn't know what to do with that. The feeling is a mix between trying to manage a very earnest, human-sized golden retriever and being an accidental extra in a skin flick. Mostly he focuses on the challenges of the former, to avoid having to think too hard about the latter.

Because convincing UPS to send a different driver to their building, or (unsuccessfully) trying to explain the hazards of frying bacon in the nude, turns out to be much easier than wrestling with the worry that he can't have Steve anymore. That Steve couldn't possibly want the person he's become, after all that was done to him and all that he'd been made to do - not like that, anyway. As a teammate, a roommate, a friend, sure; Bucky's let himself accept that Steve could want him as those things again. But everything else they used to have - even back during the war - he's not sure Steve would still want that, and he's been too worried to try and find out.

 

Initially, after Steve and Sam rescued him, Bucky occasionally thought that this scaled-up reproduction of his tiny best friend was another one of Hydra's cruel lies, taunting him that Steve was alive and well and healthy; that Hydra had finally figured out a way to slice to his very core. It was finally watching (at Sam's suggestion) some old Captain America newsreels that started connecting the dots, anchoring Bucky's memories of bigger, newer Steve, and helping to bring back, gradually but eventually, his memories of their time together during the war. 

And that's when the confusing feelings had started to trickle back in. With solidified memories of post-serum Steve came memories of rediscovering Steve's body after Steve rescued him from Zola's lab - sliding his hand under Steve's jacket when they were on watch together to feel the new muscles of his torso, standing close enough behind him in the crowded mess line to press against his ass and relearn how to fit against it, stealing a few minutes after briefings in Steve's tent to make sure his cock tasted the same, to see whether his healthy lungs let out the same choked whimpers as his asthmatic ones had back home in New York. Learning that among Steve's new abilities was a nonexistent refractory period, and making the most of their rare opportunities to test it out.

So nowadays, living with Frequently Naked Steve, Bucky tries to hide his pining and worry behind banter and bluster, and an only partly feigned disgust with the side effects of sharing an apartment with an amateur nudist.

 

"Is it because you're so damn warm all the time, Rogers? Is that what it is?" Bucky yells through the front door - the door he can barely open because it's stuck on Steve's uniform, obviously shed the second he stepped inside. He yanks the suit out from under the door with a sigh, and looks at the the trail of socks, undershirt, underwear, and gloves leading down the hall towards the living room. He kicks his boots off in the general direction of the closet. 

"Is it because you like making me pick up after you?" He calls, gathering Steve's clothes piece by piece. "Is it because it's my week to do the laundry; do you think this is part of my job?" Getting no answer, Bucky follows Steve's clothes down the hall and into the living room, where Steve - in all his naked glory - is kneeling in front of the open sliding glass doors out to their little balcony. He has a pair of needlenose pliers in his mouth, with another pair of pliers, a staple gun, and a pile of skinny black rubber nearby. Bucky tries - and fails, as he does every time Naked Steve makes an appearance - not to notice Steve's ass. He clears his throat ostentatiously. 

"Your garments, Captain," Bucky announces, unceremoniously dropping Steve's clothes on the living room floor. Steve swivels his head around, as if he's just noticed Bucky come in. He grabs the pliers out of his mouth, and offers them.

"Thanks," he says brightly. "Want to give me a hand here?" Bucky groans internally at the (unintentional, has to be unintentional) hint of a double entendre. "I'm replacing the weather stripping before it starts to get cold." 

Weather stripping. On the glass doors. Naked. Right. There's nothing arousing about properly insulating their apartment. There can't be. All the blood in Bucky's body is circulating exactly as it should, none rushing south in the slightest. He takes the pliers in his right hand.

"Um." Bucky says. "Okay. What can I do?" 

"Well," Steve says, clearly pleased that Bucky's up for helping. "Turns out this type of weather stripping is attached with staples. I've already taken the old stuff out, so now we need to pull out the old staples" - he gestures to the pliers - "so we can put the new stuff in." 

Bucky nods. This shouldn't take long, and if he's just staring at crusty old staples, Home Repair with Naked Steve might actually be bearable. Then Steve grabs the second pair of pliers, stands, and opens his mouth again.

"Why don't you take the lower ones while I start at the top? It'll get done twice as fast that way." 

Bucky considers imploding. 

"Okay," he says again, and takes Steve's place kneeling by the open door. He takes a deep breath, resolutely stares at the groove in the door in front of him, and, holding the door still with his metal hand, starts to wriggle the staples out of place. He's on his third one - dropping the old ones safely outside onto the porch, because of course Steve couldn't wear anything as sensible as _shoes_ while doing this - when he feels Steve's leg brush his back. He looks up to see Steve's arms reaching over his head to get at the topmost staples, Steve's face focused on his task. Bucky thinks for half a second - and freezes, staring straight ahead. If he turns his head an inch or two in either direction, he'll be almost face-to-face with - 

But he's saved by a flash of movement from the building across the street. Steve, intent on his task, seems not to have noticed that there are people watching them from several apartments' windows. This is not the first time Bucky's caught their neighbors' appreciation of Naked Steve, but this is the first time he's been so directly involved. He can't let this one slide.

"Steve, what the hell are you doing?" Steve stills, but doesn't drop his arms. He's clearly trying to keep his voice casual, but there's some strain underneath. 

"What do you mean?"

"Steve. You know people can see you from here." 

Steve still hasn't moved. "Can they?" he says, not very convincingly. Bucky can somehow hear him start to blush. 

"We're in front of floor-to-ceiling glass doors. Of course people can see you." Bucky feels Steve shift his weight, hears him clear his throat, but no words follow. 

The gears in Bucky's brain are turning; it's starting to come together. "Do you not mind if they see?" Steve still doesn't respond. _Oh._ "Do you…do you want them to see?" 

Steve stills again.

"I…" Steve says. "Yes?" 

Bucky, stuck between Steve's body and the door, continues to resolutely not turn his head. 

"Did you always?" Despite the tension in his voice, it's an honest question. Just because Bucky doesn't remember it doesn't mean it didn't happen.

Steve huffs out a breath. "We never got to find out, did we, before the war? And then after the serum, everything had an audience - even the serum itself; that was in a room full of people, practically an auditorium. And then I was on tour, for months; I learned how to be…this, this version of me, while I was on stage in almost every state in the country. It was like I was something worth looking at. It makes me feel…solid, I guess, to be watched."

Bucky's a little stunned. Did he somehow not ever know this? 

"And then during the war, it was absolutely not the time, and we had so _little_ time, I didn't want to share that with anyone, but now -"

"Now you want to be shared with everyone?" Bucky interrupts. He knows that Steve just confessed something important to him, and that he should be honored by the show of trust and react more kindly, but now that the topic of "we" has at long last come up, he can't help himself. His voice is shaking. "You want all those people across the street to have you - but what about me?" He's glad he can't see Steve's face from where he's kneeling.

Steve makes a sputtering noise. Bucky feels the heat of Steve's legs retreat behind him, hears him move away. "Bucky, look at me." 

Reluctantly, Bucky turns. Steve, now a few feet away, has his hands turned out and forward, in a slight offering.

"You can have me. If…..you want me?" 

Bucky, stunned, forgets for a moment that he's still kneeling. His eyebrows draw down. "I can?" 

Steve smiles like he's mocking himself. "I figured trying to get any of what we used to have back might be a long shot no matter what I did, so I thought, well - may as well put it all out there and let you figure out for yourself if you still liked what you saw." His smile turns slightly wry. "So to speak." 

Bucky's head is spinning a little - Steve is not only a secret exhibitionist, he's a _strategic_ exhibitionist; of course he is, the sneaky little shit - but Bucky's letting it in, and starting to smile back. 

"Steve, you moron," he says, getting to his feet. "I can't believe you were doing this on purpose. I've always wanted you. I didn't think you'd want me anymore, after - everything." He glances at his metal arm like it's incriminating evidence.

Steve moves closer until he's standing where he was just a minute ago, so he's right in front of Bucky. 

"Of course I do. I don't know how to not want you." He picks up both of Bucky's hands, metal and flesh-and-blood, and places them on his chest, holding Bucky's wrists. Bucky instinctively starts to tug his left hand away, but Steve holds him still, and says, "No, this one too. You wouldn't be here without it, it's part of you, and I want all of you."

Bucky's feeling a lot of things at once - he's relieved, surprisingly touched, and unequivocally turned on. In light of the latter - and because Steve has been naked all this time, _on purpose, for him_ \- he refuses to lose this moment or let himself get carried away by Steve's sappiness.

"Shut up," he says, and surges forward to kiss him. 

Steve lets out a surprised squeak, but recovers almost immediately, and he kisses back ravenously. Bucky smiles into Steve's mouth and pulls them together, backing himself up into the glass door with Steve against him. Steve's hand is on his hip, his hand is in Steve's hair, he's sucking on Steve's lower lip and Steve still tastes _so fucking good, god,_ just like he used to; Steve's hand is running up under his shirt and along his lower back; he's holding onto the door with his metal hand just in case, his right hand sliding down to the nape of Steve's neck and pulling Steve's face in even closer to let Steve's tongue into his mouth. He feels Steve pressing his naked self against his jeans, feels Steve getting hard through just his own layers of clothes, feels the skin of his stomach touch Steve's where his shirt has ridden up, feels Steve dip his head and start kissing at the corner of Bucky's jaw, nibbling at his neck, whispering, 

"Do you still like this? I remember you liked this, do you still?" and Bucky is already hard and panting a little,

"Yes, oh fuck, you can bite me harder than that, _ah, yes,_ definitely, like that," leaning his head back to bare his neck to Steve's mouth, panting when he feels the sting of teeth, and then ducking to catch Steve's mouth again, before wrapping his metal arm around Steve's back and pivoting them neatly around to slam Steve back into the door. 

Steve gasps and tenses at the sudden chill of Bucky's arm and the glass against his bare skin, and Bucky knows that anyone across the street should be able to see Steve's bare ass pressed against the glass. Steve would probably like that. The thought makes Bucky smile, a wicked thought forming. He puts his hands on the glass on either side of Steve's shoulders, keeping him in place, and leans in to speak close to Steve's ear.

"You like being watched?" Even though they just discussed this, Steve colors a little when he nods.

"Yes," he whispers back. 

"Good," Bucky replies. "Then I'm going to watch you." He doesn't want to stop touching Steve now that he knows, finally, that he can, but he feels like this will help somehow. It's a way to give Steve something Bucky knows he wants. 

He backs away, leaving Steve against the glass of the door, and sits down in an armchair facing towards the balcony. Steve looks more vulnerable now than he has since Bucky came home, despite being the same amount of naked as he's been the entire time.

"You're going to…what?" 

"You like to be watched," Bucky says again, smiling. "So I'm going to watch you. Go on, Stevie. Touch yourself for me. Remind me what I've missed." 

Steve's eyes widen and his mouth drops open, letting out a small, "Oh." Bucky can see his cock getting harder just at the thought.

"Go on," Bucky says. He rests his hands on the arms of the chair, making himself into Steve's personal audience.

Steve lets his eyes fall closed. His right hand drifts towards his inner thigh while his left wraps around the back of his neck and then strokes down, slowly, over his collarbone, his chest, coming to settle on his hip. Bucky follows the movement with hungry eyes. He wants to put his mouth where Steve's hand is.

Steve's right hand moves further down, wrapping around his cock and tugging on it. He groans. His hand starts a slow, steady rhythm, and Bucky keeps one eye on the hand on Steve's hip, tracking his pleasure in how it tightens and jerks upward on his torso, working its staccato way back up towards his chest. Steve is letting out little noises, little "mms" and "ohs" and half-formed moans. 

They used to have to be so quiet. Bucky remembers. Bucky doesn't want Steve to have to be quiet anymore.

"You look so gorgeous, Stevie," Bucky breathes. "Can't believe you'll do this for me now, just lay yourself out and let me look at you." Steve squeezes tighter on his cock and his ass jerks against the glass at Bucky's words, opening his mouth to exhale his first real moan. The sound is music to Bucky's ears.

"I've wanted this for so long, Buck - wanted you -" 

"I've got you, I'm here, I'm here." Steve moans again.

Another flash of movement from across the street registers at the corner of Bucky's eye, and he tears his eyes away from Steve long enough to see that the people gathered at the windows of neighboring apartments are talking to each other excitedly and gesturing in their direction. 

"And you know what else, looks like we got a little audience across the way." Steve opens his eyes to stare at Bucky in aroused disbelief - that Bucky would bring it up; that it's even happening - and he shudders a little into his hand. "That's right, we got a whole bunch of people over there watching me watch you get yourself all worked up." Steve throws his head back against the glass, his hand moving faster still on his cock, moaning so loudly that Bucky wonders if he's deliberately putting on a show. That's a hell of a thought. "You want us all to see you when you come? You want to come for me, Stevie?" 

Steve's left hand has migrated to cup around his left pec, and he sinks his fingers into his own chest at Bucky's words, catching his nipple in a sudden grip. His hand on his cock is stuttering, his breath coming out as "Ah, AH, AAAH," getting louder and louder until he buckles forward and comes, hard, into his hand.

He shudders out one more breath and looks up at Bucky. Bucky is outrageously turned on, and he feels like his heart is going to burst. He drops out of the chair and slides forward on his knees to where Steve is standing, a little slumped, still holding himself and panting. Bucky reaches up to wrap his right hand gently around Steve's wrist. Steve's eyes meet his.

"That was fucking amazing," Bucky says. "Jesus. Thank you."

"Damn, Bucky," Steve says. "I wish I'd known, we could have done this months ago." 

"Me too," Bucky says. He looks at Steve's hand, covered with his cooling come and holding his still-hard cock. He may as well go for it. "Think you still taste the same?" 

Steve grins. "Only one way to know for sure." 

Bucky smiles back, so glad that Steve is still just as filthy as he used to be. He strengthens his hold on Steve's wrist, keeping Steve's hand still so he can lick down the back to the tip of each finger, tonguing Steve's hand clean, licking circles into his palm and sucking his fingers into his mouth one by one. The taste is familiar for sure - Bucky imagines that all come probably tastes somewhat similar, but he'd still like to think that there's something here that's uniquely Steve.

"Close enough," he replies, at length. He leans his head forward to rest on Steve's hip, breathing in the scent of his skin. "God, you're so beautiful. It's been rough, seeing you naked all this time and not knowing if I could touch you." He starts nuzzling along Steve's lower belly. 

"That feels so nice - I want you to touch me. Touch me all you want." 

"All I want? I hope you know what you're getting into with that." Bucky shifts lower, starts mouthing along the downward curve of Steve's hipbone, letting himself be guided one kiss at a time towards Steve's cock. He can hear the smile in Steve's voice.

"I sure do." 

"Good," Bucky says, and swallows half of Steve's cock in one go. It feels amazing in his mouth, and he thinks he probably used to be able to take the whole thing at once, but he's out of practice now; he might have to work back up to that. He hears Steve's head _thunk_ against the glass door above him, and feels Steve's thighs shiver. He gives a little hum of approval and wraps his right hand around the base of Steve's cock, holding it in place so he can pull off briefly. He looks up at Steve, who's looking down at him with, if anything, even more lust than before his orgasm a few minutes ago. Bless the serum and Steve's unflagging libido.

"Put your hands on the door," Bucky says. "If anyone's still watching, let's give 'em a little something to see." Steve slides his hands behind him and sticks his palms onto the glass. 

"Jesus, Buck," he says, clearly liking the idea. "I thought you didn't want to share." 

"I know how to share just fine," Bucky says, and dives back down. He starts bobbing his head, running his tongue up along the underside of Steve's cock as he pulls back, letting his lips catch around the head and lapping it with his tongue before sliding back down again. Steve is clearly trying to keep still, to not thrust into Bucky's mouth too much - but even with his hands on the door keeping him somewhat anchored, he's not entirely succeeding.

Bucky tries sliding his hand up and down in time with his mouth a few times, when he feels Steve suddenly still. He looks up questioningly, mouth full. Steve bites his lip.

"God, look at you." Bucky hums, pleased, and starts to guide his mouth back down Steve's cock. 

"Wait," he hears Steve say. Bucky looks up again. 

"Can I have your other hand?" Steve asks, hesitantly. "The- the metal one?"

Bucky raises his eyebrows and lets Steve's cock slide free. 

"Really?" He asks. Steve's mouth is on it's way to a little smile. 

"I've been curious." 

Steve's earnest assertion that he likes the arm because it's part of Bucky was clearly not the whole story. 

"Rogers, have you been jacking off about my metal arm? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

Bucky thought he'd seen every version of Steve's blushing, but Steve instantly turning neon pink is a new one. "Your unhealthy relationship with danger has reached a new level," Bucky says, and swaps out his hands, wrapping the metal one around the base of Steve's cock and letting his right hand drop down between his legs, grazing his own neglected dick through his jeans. 

He closes his mouth around Steve while pressing down with the heel of his hand, and moans around Steve's dick. Steve moans in response.

"Wow," Steve gasps. "Thats…hard, and different, wow." Bucky makes an inquisitive noise, but doesn't stop. "Definitely good." Bucky, pleased, squeezes just a little bit to see what Steve will do, and hears Steve's fingers squeaking along the glass, and then the door shuddering as Steve finds and grips its open edge. Bucky figures that if Steve rips the door off its tracks during all this, it'll be 100% worth it. Look where home repair has gotten them so far today. He squeezes again, harder. Steve groans loudly.

"Yeah, yeah, like that." 

Bucky picks up the pace, getting rougher and taking Steve deeper, but not so deep that he needs to let go with his metal fist. He grinds down onto his own cock with his free hand, moaning again around Steve's as Steve's hips start to stutter, nudging his cock towards the back of Bucky's throat. With his hand at the base of Steve's dick like this, Bucky can keep Steve from pushing too far in - just far enough to almost, but not quite, choke him; fuck it feels incredible. It's like he's driving a rollercoaster; he may be nominally in charge, but he's gotten completely swept along for the ride. 

He can hear Steve coming apart above him, moaning loudly for all the world to hear, thrashing as much as he can without kneeing Bucky in the head or dislodging his hands. He's shaking the door in its tracks, and the louder Steve gets - the more obviously lost he is in the feeling of Bucky swallowing his cock - the more turned on Bucky becomes. He squeezes himself through his jeans, and gently scrapes his teeth along the ridge at the head of Steve's dick. Steve grips the door so hard Bucky swears he can hear something crack. 

"Augh, fuck! Bucky, yes!"

Bucky loves getting Steve to swear.

He works his head down, down, until his lips touch the metal of his hand, then pulls back and scrapes his teeth against the ridge again, sucking a little this time. 

"Bucky, Bucky, Bucky, god, I'm, I'm gonna -" Bucky works his hand up and down, sucking with his teeth, encouraging, inviting, and Steve comes into his mouth with a choked shout.

Bucky lets go of Steve's dick and reaches with both hands to wrap around the back of Steve's thighs, holding onto him while he carefully slides his mouth off, swallowing, cleaning up after himself. He imagines that his hands might be visible, if anyone's still watching, but it seems unnecessary to point that out at this particular moment.

"Yep, that's definitely all you," Bucky licks his lips and smiles up at Steve. "Guess I needed another reminder." 

Steve's fairly glowing as he pulls Bucky up to standing and wraps his arms around him. 

"Jerk," Steve says, and nuzzles softly into his ear. "You're incredible. And way too clothed, why are you still wearing this?" He tugs at the hem of Bucky's shirt. Bucky chuckles and pulls it over his head, tossing it behind him into the living room. Steve looks at him like it's the first time he's seen him half-naked - it's not, not by any stretch, but it's been a while, and a long while since it's been in circumstances like these. Biting his lip, Steve runs his hands down Bucky's sides, up his back, over his chest, stroking carefully where metal meets scarred skin, and back up the sides of Bucky's neck to cup his face, bringing him in for a lingering kiss. Bucky wraps his left arm around Steve's back and reaches lower to cup his ass. Steve tenses against the surprise of metal on his skin, and then hums appreciatively, arching back into it. 

"You do like my arm, don't you? Wow." Steve shifts against it, clearly enjoying how the metal feels against his skin, but ignores the question in favor of resuming his task of getting Bucky as naked as he is.

"Why are you still wearing _this?_ " Steve lowers his arms to reach into the small space between them and undo Bucky's belt. "And these?" He unbuttons Bucky's jeans, working his fingers inside to push them down. Bucky's glad he took off his boots when he came home earlier. Without letting go of Steve, he steps out of his jeans, nudges them to the side with his foot, and shuffles out of his socks with as much grace as semi-balanced sock-shuffling can involve. 

"I can't imagine why," he says. "You'd think living with a damn nudist all these months would have rubbed off on me." 

"Rubbed off, you say?" Steve arches a single eyebrow, and cups Bucky's dick, still achingly hard. Bucky's eyes flutter and he inhales sharply. Steve's _hands,_ good god, could he possibly have forgotten how good his hands are? He's sure as hell being reminded now. Strong and sure, just the right amount of pressure; Steve strokes Bucky slowly, and Bucky stutters forward, leaning his head onto Steve's shoulder.

"Is this good, Buck? Is this still what you like?" Bucky groans a little into Steve's shoulder, and Steve reaches his free hand up to the back of Bucky's head, threading his fingers into Bucky's hair, fingertips a gentle pressure on Bucky's scalp.

"So good," Bucky breathes against Steve's skin, "Please don't stop - " Steve hums into his hair and keeps stroking his cock, tightening his grip a little but not speeding up, wringing the pleasure out of him waves, building slowly, steadily, making his breath come quicker and his metal hand on Steve's ass clutch tighter. Steve gasps, "Yes," when Bucky squeezes, so Bucky tries not to worry that he might hurt him, just lets himself float. God, Steve's hands are so good, if only - 

"My hair," Bucky murmurs. Steve hand in his hair starts petting gently back and forth, but Bucky shakes his head. "No," he says, "Like this -" and squeezes Steve's ass a little tighter. 

"Oh," Steve says, and Bucky can feel Steve's cock, pressed against his thigh, grow harder as Steve's hand in his hair tightens into a fist, pulling his head just slightly up and off of Steve's chest. "Like this?" 

The sting of Steve's hand gripping his hair turns the pleasure radiating all over Bucky's body up several notches. 

"Ah, yes," he says, rocking his head forward against Steve's hand, testing. Steve holds firm, keeps Bucky's head in place. " _Yes,_ " Bucky says again, more emphatically, feeling so good, and safe, and right, caught between Steve's hand in his hair and Steve's hand on his cock. He clings to Steve and just rides it, letting Steve work him slowly but surely; not getting him off - though he's not too far from it - just letting him coast. 

After a time - Bucky can't tell how long; it could be a minute or it could be half an hour - Steve's hand in his hair loosens, and he lets Bucky rest on his shoulder again. His hand slows on Bucky's cock, and comes up around his back to hold him. Bucky pants happily. If any part of him needed more reassurance that Steve really and truly does want him now, that part is quieted for the moment.

"Do you want more of this?" Steve asks. "Or something else? I wouldn't say no to you making me come a half dozen more times - " Bucky snorts a laugh into Steve's shoulder - "but only if I get to see you come, too. How do you want it?"

Bucky looks up so he can see Steve's face. "Six more times? Really? I do _not_ remember you being able to do that."

Steve arches his eyebrow again. "Try me." And oh, Bucky really, really wants to. But first - 

"I want to feel inside you." Bucky pauses. "But - if that's too much, we don't have to - " Steve cuts him off, grinning from ear to ear.

"God, Buck, _yes_ \- I'm not waiting if I don't have to; I want you to fuck me right now." 

"Do you have…"

"My room, nightstand, top drawer, go, _now_."

Bucky grins back, and puts his hands on Steve's shoulders, pushing him to the side so that his back is against the wall next to the glass doors, instead of against the doors themselves. Bucky has ideas, and those ideas don't involve picking broken glass out of anyone's back.

"Wait here," he says, and dashes off. 

When he returns a minute later with the bottle of slick and a handful of condoms - both of which seem way nicer than anything they'd ever used before; he's excited to try them out - Steve is still against the wall, but leaning a little so that he can look out across the balcony. 

"You weren't kidding, there are people over there," Steve says. He gives a jaunty little wave. A woman at what appears to be a kitchen window diagonally across from them gives a slightly shell-shocked wave back. Bucky shakes his head. 

"You're incorrigible, Rogers," he says, setting down the bottle and condoms, and moving to face Steve. "Still enjoying having an audience?" 

Steve chews his lip, suddenly concerned, and gives a small nod. 

"Is that all right?" 

Bucky smiles. Reckless, courteous Steve.

"Look," Bucky says, "I don't care if you want the whole world to have a piece of you, as long as I'm part of it. I'm not that selfish - as long as I can have you, too, I'm happy. Like I said, I know how to share." Steve's face brightens. 

"What did I do to deserve you," he says, pulling Bucky in for a kiss. 

"A lot of stupid shit, probably," Bucky replies before kissing back. "Punk." 

"I seem to recall something about getting fucked," Steve says. 

"Patience is a virtue, Rogers," Bucky retorts, "but since you're so determined -" and in one fluid motion, he bends his knees, scoops the bottle of lube back up with his right hand, grabs Steve with his left on his way back up, and hoists him clear off the ground. Steve, surprised, instinctively wraps his legs around Bucky's waist to steady himself. Bucky takes the opportunity of having thus rendered Steve momentarily speechless to get Steve arranged just how he wants him: back against the wall, legs draped over Bucky's thighs, with Bucky's metal arm wrapped under his ass. 

"I do not remember _you_ being able to do _that_ ," Steve says, looking at Bucky with wonder and a little awe. Bucky just grins back. 

"Looks like we're all superheroes now," Bucky says. Steve rolls his eyes at him fondly. Bucky hitches his hips a little to support more of Steve's weight, unfurls his arm out from under him, and holds his metal hand where Steve can see it, wiggling his fingers a little. "Hey Stevie," he says. "How're you feeling about this hand now?" 

Steve, still recovering from his surprise manhandling, takes a second to catch on - but as soon as he does, his eyes go wide. 

"OH. Yes. I'm feeling very good about your hand right now." 

Bucky smiles wickedly. "Good." He drizzles some lube onto his metal fingers, then holds the bottle out between them. "Hang onto this for me." Steve takes it in one hand, wrapping the other around the back of Bucky's neck. Bucky reaches under Steve with both hands, and uses his right to spread Steve open. He trails a slick metal finger up and down, grazing over Steve's hole on each pass, teasing. Steve's breath stutters every time, letting himself get used to the sensation of being touched there, relishing it. Bucky's strokes grow shorter and shorter, until he's circling around Steve's hole, massaging, making Steve loll his head back and whimper gently. His whimpers turn to a sudden, sharp "Ah!" when Bucky slowly starts to work a finger inside. 

"How's that feel?" he asks, rocking his finger gently until he's up to the second knuckle. Steve is so, so tight - Bucky guesses it's probably been a while for him, but also he's remembering that this isn't new - this was an effect of the serum, too; part of his body's lightening-quick healing. It's why Bucky got fucked more than Steve did, whenever they had the opportunity during the war. They almost never had the time or the privacy to properly work him open. Bucky'd hardly minded - but they have oh, so much time now. Maybe not as much privacy, but that's all their own fault. 

"Good," Steve breathes, eyes still closed, focusing on relaxing to take Bucky's fingers. "Deeper, and then more." 

Bucky shifts his hand around a little to make sure the rest of his finger is properly slick, and keeps pressing, rocking, teasing, until his finger is all the way inside. 

"That's one," he says, and undulates it gently, rocking back and forth.

"Oh," Steve says. 

"That feel good, baby?" 

"That - ah! - did ever I say you could call me that?" 

"I don't remember," Bucky says, smirking.

"You're terrible." Steve's breath is coming a little shorter now; Bucky must be doing something right. "Another."

Bucky slides his first finger out, crosses it on top of a second, and presses, slowly, so slowly, feeling the pressure on his metal fingers as Steve stretches around him - just the tips at first, then halfway in, then almost all the way - Bucky swivels his fingers just a little, searching - 

"AH!" Steve slams his head back into the wall. Bucky feels triumphant. "Oh _god_ yes, do that again." Bucky repeats the motion, massaging over the same spot again and again, and Steve lets out a continuous guttural moan. Bucky can feel Steve relaxing around him as he toys with his prostate. It feels incredible. He scissors his fingers gently apart, testing, stretching; Steve's moan gets a little higher pitched. 

"You ready for one more?" Steve doesn't even open his eyes.

"I - more? Oh. Yes, _yes_ , more." 

Bucky thrills at how much Steve is giving himself over to this. He pulls his fingers most of the way out, nestles in a third, and says, "Breathe," as he starts to push. Steve exhales deeply, and all at once Bucky's three fingers slide all the way in.

"Bucky," Steve gasps. 

"I've got you," Bucky replies. "I've got you." He starts shifting his fingers back and forth, just small movements at first, getting Steve good and used to the size of them, listening to Steve's breathing and moaning. He's so focused that it takes him a second to realize what's happening when he feels Steve's legs tighten around his hips in an attempt to gain some leverage. Once he catches on, he holds his arm still, lets Steve slide up and down on his own once or twice - and then starts moving his hand more quickly, thrusting in and out, still feeling that gorgeous stretch when he pushes in all the way. He wishes he could see what his hand looks like, buried in Steve like this - but Steve is panting, head thrown back, thighs tight around Bucky's torso, and there's no way he's putting him down now. 

"God, Bucky - fuck me, fuck me, _please_ -" 

Bucky bites his lip against the bolt of arousal that shoots through him. Of all the incredible things this evening has held, Bucky would never in a million years have expected to hear Steve begging. He so wants to respond, to get his cock inside him now, but he has to wring it out just a little more. He pushes into Steve deep, hard with his metal fingers.

"Say it again," he says. "Tell me what you want." 

"Fuck me, fuck me, just like that, I want you inside me, please, Bucky, I want you, I want you so much."

Bucky slides his fingers out slowly, and feels Steve shudder as they withdraw. 

"Hold on tight," he says. Steve's thighs go taut around Bucky's hips and Steve's grip on the back of his neck solidifies, and Bucky reprises his earlier maneuver, crouching just enough with Steve wrapped around him so he can to scoop a condom up from where he'd left them on the floor, bouncing a little as he rises so that Steve lands poised just above his cock. Bucky takes the half-step forward needed to rest Steve, a little breathless, back on the wall. 

"I'm starting to think you're showing off," Steve says. He's still holding the bottle of lube.

"What on earth would make you think that?" Bucky replies, smirking, and rips open the condom with his teeth. He reaches down to put it on, then offers Steve his left hand. "Do the honors?" 

Steve pours out some lube and lets the bottle drop. He bites his lip almost shyly in anticipation. Bucky slicks himself up, holds Steve right where his legs and his ass meet, looks into his eyes and pushes straight up into him. Steve lets out a mighty moan as he's slammed back into the wall.

Bucky's seeing stars. Steve is so hot, and tight, he's all around him, he's everywhere; he feels so good, so good, and how Bucky could have gone so long without this is, for a long and beautiful moment, unfathomable. It feels like Steve is holding him up, somehow, even though Bucky's supporting both of their weight. Bucky starts thrusting his hips, pushing Steve back into the wall, and Steve's arms are around his neck, Steve's tongue is in his mouth, Steve's legs are draped over his thighs, Steve's hand is in his hair and Steve's voice is in his ear,

"More, harder," so Bucky gives it to him. He slams up into him hard and fast, and Steve is moaning and gasping so loudly that if nobody outside had heard them before, they can definitely hear now. Steve's always been a bad influence and this apparently is no different; Bucky finds himself strangely delighted at the thought that people on the street several floors below can hear how good he's making Steve feel. He runs his hands back up Steve's thighs to lift his legs higher, fold him back so he's trapped between Bucky and the wall, his cock tight against his own stomach, just taking it and taking it. 

"God, Stevie," he gasps, "You feel so fucking amazing." He leans his head in and kisses Steve hard on the mouth, and for a minute there's no sound except the rhythmic thumping of their bodies against the wall. 

Suddenly, Steve's hand in his hair tightens. He jerks Bucky's head up and back, and bites, hard, right where Bucky's neck meets his shoulder. Bucky shouts with pleasure at the sudden pain and pants, 

" _Again_."

Steve clings to his hair and sinks his teeth into his neck, sucking and bruising the skin between his teeth, and Bucky can feel himself start to come apart, riding the rollercoaster faster and faster towards the edge. His cock slides deeper into Steve, and Bucky hears Steve's muffled moans against his neck, feels him start to shake. All at once, Steve flings his head back and shouts, tugging hard on Bucky's hair, and comes into the space between them. Bucky feels him spasm around his cock, feels the dull ache of Steve still clinging to his hair, and thrusts one, two, three more times before following Steve over the edge.

When Bucky's vision clears, he's still holding Steve up against the wall. Steve's legs have slumped lower on Bucky's hips, now, and it takes only a brief and not entirely ungraceful movement on Bucky's part to get Steve's feet back on the ground. They lean into each other for a minute, just breathing and smiling. 

Then Steve leans down and positions an arm behind Bucky's knees.

"My turn," he says, simply - and scoops Bucky into his arms and carries him to bed.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bucky wakes up early, well before Steve, and slips out of bed to finish installing the weather stripping himself. He swears, when he closes their freshly-insulated balcony doors, that a few of the windows across the street didn't have little American flags taped to them yesterday. He chuckles, gives a mock salute, and goes back to join Steve in bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Want more metal arm lust? [Look no further.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3182714)


End file.
